


Ready to Learn

by peachiesundae (paperbeck)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Masturbation, Middle School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbeck/pseuds/peachiesundae
Summary: MIDDLE SCHOOL Ushijima, in case that puts you off.This spawned from a writer on Twitter asking (a while ago), "Does Ushijima jack off? Does he even know how?"Someone replied, "He figures it out after he sees Sakusa Kiyoomi play volleyball for the first time." But that person who responded forgot that these two first met in middle school (and was an anti and a coward), so I wrote this.
Relationships: (sort of) - Relationship, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Ready to Learn

Ushijima had never expected anyone to handle his spikes.  
  
In fact, so far in his middle school career, he hadn’t seen anyone do it; his spikes were unreceivable, so long as it was set for him properly, and teams left and right were already scared of his power. But this Okojo kid is something else. 

Before their match, Ushijima had run into the same kid in the bathroom as he folded his little handkerchief inward, deft and practiced and wholly unusual for a middle schooler. Ushijima had commented on it, and in turn found out the Okojo player’s name -- Sakusa. It was Sakusa. 

With Ushijima towering over many of the players when his feet are on the ground, he is even more intimidating leaping into the air for a set and pulling his arm back. He never feels truly bad for the people who received his spikes, just disappointed. They simply aren’t a match for him. 

So as always, he sees the space where the volleyball is going to land. He sees Sakusa close to it, and feels nothing as his hand connects with the leather to send it back. 

It isn’t until that same leather collides with Sakusa’s forearms that he feels _something_. Surprise? Shock? 

Ushijima sees the ferocity and determination in his young teenage eyes, dark and trained with practiced focus on the volleyball, and a second feeling rushes through him. The sensation he doesn’t have a name for leaves his whole body feeling warm. 

He clears his mind to continue the game, but every time he can spare it, his eyes shoot over to Sakusa’s lanky form. Sakusa, who almost makes him feel incompetent with how fixated he is on the ball. Ushijima is usually the same, unwaveringly focused, but some part of his brain has decided that Sakusa is the new desired object of his focus. For a moment, it says Sakusa matters more than the game.  


He doesn’t. Ushijima pushes away from that idiotic part of his brain and puts himself back in the headspace he needs: team, winning, _volleyball_. 

Shiratorizawa Academy wins, but barely; it’s much closer than the matches with other teams they’ve faced, especially so far that year. It’s a thin enough margin that when they line up to shake hands, Ushijima holds a look of respect for each player, not just one. 

As he makes his way down the line, he hesitates to move away from Sakusa, who has managed to procure a thin disposable glove between the end of the game and the line up; Ushijima’s hand clasps around the latex, feeling the warmth of the curly haired boy’s hand through the layer, and their eyes connect for a moment. The moment lasts until Sakusa looks away, breaking the brief contact that felt like it had stretched out for miles in Ushijima’s mind. 

Ushijima lays on his bed later, replaying Sakusa’s spikes and receives in his mind. He’s never seen anyone play like that, with single-minded determination that brings them to pull off something that should be almost impossible. He’s never met another spiker his age who can hold his own. He’s...intrigued. That’s the word, right? Intrigued? 

He squirms a bit on his bed and looks down to realize his dick is kind of hard. He’s felt this in the past, just randomly or in the morning, but he’s never bothered to do anything about. He’s never tried. He, well, doesn’t really know how. 

His parents have taught him a lot of farming techniques, and his dad taught him the importance of obtaining new skills and making connections with the right people, but he hadn’t ever really bothered to teach him about _this_. It isn’t something that ever came up. 

Ushijima closes his eyes and slides his hands into his shorts, still over his underwear, palming the hardness between his legs. The more pressure he puts against it, the better it feels. He eyes his door, wondering if he should turn the lock. Reluctantly, he sits up, pulls his hand out of his pants, and walks to the door, locking it just to be safe. He glances at the curtains in his room, checking that they’re closed -- not that anyone could see him on the second floor anyway -- and resumes his position on the bed. 

Hesitantly, he slides his shorts off, kicking them to the end of his bed. Palming himself through his briefs feels even better without the restricting band of his shorts, and when the gentle press of his own palm isn’t enough, he finds himself arching his hips up to press harder. He brings his other hand up to his mouth, biting a knuckle to ground himself when it feels like he’s rising into the clouds. 

It isn’t enough. He knows there has to be more. He lets his fingers dive under the waistband, but decides almost immediately that the elastic is too restrictive and shucks them off, discarded at the end of his bed with his shorts. 

Ushijima runs his fingers along his length, trembling at the sensitivity now that it’s out in the air. He wraps his hand around it and squeezes, and he thinks he sees stars. What is this intense feeling? Why are there chills down his spine? 

What would happen if he kept doing it? 

Pulling his hand up and down his length is difficult; the friction of the skin of his hand against the skin of his cock doesn’t make for any decent sort of slide or rhythm, and it pulls at his foreskin in a way that is definitely uncomfortable. 

Feeling greedy, he pulls his hand back and spits on it, and when he places his hand back where it had been, he _really_ has to bite the other one to silence himself. Why did it feel so good? _Why hadn’t anyone told him?_

He slathers more spit on his hand, closing his eyes again and working his hand up and down, up and down. Behind his eyelids, he sees flashes of curly hair and two twin moles. 

_Him? Why is he coming to mind now?_

He elects to ignore it and keeps going, squeezing himself tighter as he hears the wet _schlick_ of his hand on each upstroke. He decides to try something different and on the next one, he twists his hand as he pulls. The fire inside him rages, and he feels unhinged; he does it again and he sees Sakusa receive his spike, sees the sweat on his brow before he’d wiped it away, sees his dark eyes locking onto Ushijima’s for a single moment before Ushijima’s mind goes white. 

He whines as he digs his teeth into the flesh of his hand to keep from being loud. His cock pulses, something coming out of it, but he can’t even be concerned because it feels _so fucking good_. He doesn’t stop, working his hand up and down even though it’s dried out a bit, until the intense feeling subsides completely. 

His shirt is ruined. He’ll have to sneak into the bathroom to vigorously scrub it later, or just find a way to inconspicuously throw it out, but he doesn’t care; what he cares about is Sakusa, what thoughts of him made happen, and how the images in his mind made them even better. 

The next time, he thinks, maybe he could picture the pale, slender fingers that folded away that handkerchief. Perhaps, as he touched himself, he would picture them in place of his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it, and if you want me to write about the second time they meet (or continue this in any way). I'm @vityaniks on Twitter if you wanna pop over and say hey!


End file.
